Sam Ward begins his new play Nation by asking the audience to imagine an ordinary town—a place with a butcher, a baker, and a Pilates instructor, where we can ‘see’ a woman walking a dog, a man riding a bike, and a cow wearing a hat. Suddenly, in this peaceful scene, Ward, playing the postman, points to an imagined body lying in blood on the high street.
Without much explanation, Ward takes us back to a retirement party for a woman who worked at the local museum. He starts assigning roles for this scene to audience members—a woman in a blue dress becomes the lady of the house, a young man plays her husband, an older man is cast as their son who is clawing at a mysterious hole, and a woman as the family dog. As the roles are assigned, the characters’ appearances increasingly diverge from those of the people playing them.
Eventually, a stranger interrupts the party, and soon after, things start disappearing from the town—small items at first, then entire buildings. The community, gripped by fear, begins to blame the stranger. As cohesion breaks down, fear turns to hate, leading to violence and bloodshed.
This week’s nightly news has been dominated by reports of far-right xenophobic riots across England and Northern Ireland. Some might compare the real-life cruelty and brutality to Ward’s theatrical fable, criticising it for its distance from reality. However, if we consider the show’s central message—exploring the construction of a collective imaginary narrative—this deliberate distance from reality is essential to its validity. Theatre, as a space where the collective imagination between spectator and performer reigns, thrives on its ambiguity. By assigning an audience member the role of a retired museum worker, then inviting them on stage and revealing their true identity as a performer, Ward breaks the boundary between performer and audience. This twist serves as a reminder that theatre inhabits a space where imagination and reality intertwine. It is, and will never be, entirely one or the other—much like the concept of a nation.
It’s easy to mock how sillily anti-immigration extremists interpret the concept of a nation, but remaining a silent observer (like an audience in a theatre) won’t help anyone. Just like the role-shifting experience in Nation, understanding the mechanisms behind the creation of nationhood and nationalism, as well as making decent decisions about what is right and wrong, is the first step we all need to take, even if it means being a part of this ‘nation’.
Nation is running until 26 August (except 13 & 20) at Summerhall – Roundabout.
Buy tickets here.
Image by Mihaela Bodlovic provided to The Student for press use.